White Dragon
by ChampionTeaDrinker
Summary: When Marik was initiated into White Dragon, he had expected the blood, murder, torture and illicit activities of the gang...but he didn't expect to be captivated by his mischievous superior. Thiefshipping, yaoi.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: [Insert obligatory first fic message here]  
**

** Bōryokudan: the police's name for the Yakuza (Japanese mafia). Literally means "violence group". **

**Oyabun: Literally "Foster parent". Head of the family**

**Kobun: Literally "Foster child". The collective family, excluding the oyabun**

_All I can feel is pain. It rages through my body, merciless. I crumple to the floor, clutching my neck and choking on the savage shockwaves ripping through me. I can feel someone pulling me onto my feet roughly and pushing me forward. Knees buckling, my legs start to give out under me, but the "someone" hauls me up again, and I stumble forward blindly until I crash into something solid._

"_You didn't take that too well, did you?" Quivering with fear, I glance upward for as long as I dare, and into the face of the something solid that I just collapsed into. His hair draws my attention first: bleach blonde bangs clashing with black hair, gelled into vicious spikes and fading into purple at the ends. I manage to shake my head, and focus on standing up. The pain haze is fading away, but my neck still burns, making it difficult to breathe. My sight has cleared enough to see the cruel smirk playing across the man's sharp features. I shudder and glance round the room. It is long, ceiling hung low and looming over slatted floorboards, making the room feel like a crypt. There are others - great hulking figures of men stood to attention against the walls; at the end of the room is a vast arch cocooning a roaring furnace, it's heat pulsing through the tight space as I hiss and arch my back against the sharp prickling still shooting down my spine._

"_Do you like it? The Don's own personal design." The deep, resonating voice shocks me away from my thoughts, and I hear footsteps behind me. I gasp and make to raise myself up to the new presence, but the man is now right behind me; before I can attempt to fight, a crushing hand closes around my shoulder, and rams me back down. Close up, I could see the murderous glare in his eyes, and that smirk looked even more terrifying._

"_Y-y-yes." His laughter echoed around the room_

"_Are you scared of me, blondie?" He leaned towards me and gripped my arm tightly. My heart was pounding loudly and my mind was going crazy with fear. Finally, he backed away, and his smirk dropped._

"_I'd love to play with you blondie, but we haven't finished with the initiation. Kneel down and repeat after me." He waited until I was kneeling and pulled a gun out of his jacket. My eyes widened as he walked over and held it to my head._

"_I, Marik Ishtar, swear sole allegiance to the Kaiba family"_

"_I-I-I, Marik Ishtar, swear sole allegiance to the Kaiba family"_

"_My life is the Don's to use as he sees fit"_

"_My life is the Don's to use as he sees fit"_

"_May Obelisk crush my bones to dust, Slifer dismember my body, and Ra burn my soul if ever I betray him"_

"_M-m-ay Obelisk crush my bones to dust, Slifer dismember my body, and Ra burn my soul if ever I betray him"_

"_Long live the noble house of Kaiba"_

"_Long live the noble house of Kaiba" He held out his hand in front of me, and I saw the ring on his finger. It was gold, and had an eye symbol in the middle._

"_Kiss it" I obeyed the order without a second thought. The cold metal left the side of my head, and I breathed a shaky sigh of relief. Looking up, I saw the smirk was back on the man's face._

"_My name is Atem, though most call me Yami. Welcome to the family, blondie."_

* * *

When I joined the White Dragons, the most ruthless bōryokudan in Japan, I expected many things on my first night. What I didn't expect was to be drunk in the oyabun's mansion, intoxicated by loud music and heat from bodies in a similar haze. The usually calm and serene grand ballroom was plunged in darkness that was only occasionally broken by sharp light from the spotlights on the ceiling. The sound was so loud it drowned out every attempt at conversation, but that didn't stop people getting to know each other pretty intimately. My back was currently pressed against a tall American boy who was slightly more drunk than the rest of us. He pushed me out of the mass of people and I collapsed against the bar, trying to get my breath back after the intense dancing. Hearing light, almost girly laughter behind me, I turned to look at tonight's acting bartender. His appearance was deceptively innocent, with large, soft brown eyes and long white hair, currently pulled in a low ponytail. But I knew better than to trust the innocent appearance. Ryō Bakura was one of the three most dangerous kobun in the family, and would kill me without a second thought if he ever got a reason. Luckily, tonight was a party to welcome me and the other 2 new shatei. Although, that was mostly just an excuse to get drunk and laid. There were only 2 women in the family, and both must have been born and raised in a freezer, because they were frosty as hell (sadly, many bollocks had to be sacrificed before this fact was discovered) so Kaiba-sama had allowed for women outside the family to be invited to the party. So obviously, most men were busy fighting over the girls. Or in most cases, just ganging up on them together...

"Hey, Ryō, gimme another beer will ya."

"Do you have no manners Jōunouchi-kun?"

"I told ya, it's Joey. Jōunouchi sounds so pretentious"

"Tch, Americans"

"Hey Snowy, don't get all high and mighty on me!"

The older boy laughed and shook his head, then put the glass of beer on the counter in front of the teenager.

"I don't know how you drink that. I'd choose sake over beer any day."

"Tch. What are you having Marik?"

I blushed slightly after realizing that I'd been staring at them the whole time. I was still reeling from the drinking competition I had been dragged into by Yami and Joey a few hours ago, even though I had stopped after 2 shots, inspiring plenty of teasing about how I couldn't take my drink. It was true though. Sighing, I ordered a cup of sake and leaned back against the counter.

The music had turned slightly less heavy, and people were beginning to gravitate back towards the bar. I saw Yami walking towards us, with a girl on his arm. As he came closer, I saw the tattoo on her neck, showing that she was one of the family. How the hell Yami had ever managed to hook up with one of the frosty bitches I had no idea, but I definitely wanted an explanation. Finishing my sake, I found a stool and sat down next to Joey, who was now arguing with his friend Tristan about which type of weapon was best to use in hand-to-hand combat.

"Joey, it's nearly impossible to use a gun in close combat properly. Just use a knife and ya can't loose!"

"Well if I soot 'em before they get too close, I won't need to bother!"

I rolled my eyes and looked round at Yami, who was now standing next to me at the bar.

"Hey Bakura-san. Whiskey for me, White Russian for the lady."

"Ooh, going for the cocktails are we Mazaki-san?"

"So what if I am, Bakura?"

Bakura smirked and turned away to make the drinks, while the woman walked away to her equally frosty friend, leaving me alone with Yami.

The man still scared me, even though he had laughed off what happened in the initiation chamber as soon as I was back to normal. After the oath, we had left the chamber, and entered a small dining room where 3 others already sat. One of them was the oyabun, Seto Kaiba, who sat at the head of the table, and I remember Ryō being one of the others, but the whole initiation was still a haze, so I couldn't remember the others. Yami sat me down and stood behind me. I was vaguely aware of a cup of sake being handed round, starting with Kaiba-sama, and ending up in front of me. After that, I was led away to my room where I fell asleep until about 6 pm, when Yami woke me loudly and nearly dragged me to the party. And 5 hours later, here I was, gradually getting hammered, and listening to Yami and Ryō tease the two women, who had come back over to get their drinks.

"So Ryō-san, where is that lovely brother of yours?"

"Nī-sama? He's around here somewhere. But you know parties aren't his thing. He prefers a more...sophisticated setting"

"That snob. He's probably stealing from Kaiba-sama's wine cellar again."

"Yeah, he's lucky Kaiba-sama and Moku-chan left before the party, or he would be in big trouble for that."

"The boss doesn't like people stealing his expensive Western wines, does he? Remember that guy who was forced to drink acid after he was caught? Rumor is, Kaiba-sama oversaw the punishment personally."

As they started to recount old stories about unfortunate people who got on the wrong side of the oyabun, I slowly stood up and walked out of the ballroom. The alcohol and loud music was taking its toll on my head, and I stumbled through the corridors, trying to remember where the kitchen had been when Yami had given me a tour of the mansion. Finally, I found the small unassuming door, and stumbled through, immediately making my way to the large fridge. I found several bottles of water lined up on the middle shelf, and I greedily drank one dry. I was about to reach for another, when a deep voice stopped me in my tracks. Slowly, I turned to find a pair of cold chocolate brown eyes staring into mine.

"What are you doing here?"

"I-I-I...uh..."

"You shouldn't be wandering around the oyabun's house alone..." the mysterious man leaned closer to me, still captivating me with his cold eyes.

"You never know what might happen" his voice had dropped to a gruff whisper, and I became too aware of how I was crushed against the fridge door, with his lips dangerously close to mine. With the speed and agility of a viper, he shot forward and bit the newly branded symbol in the hollow of my neck. My eyes widened, but before I could move, he was gone.

Shaking, I stood up, suddenly very, very sober, and ran out of the mansion, and across the neat lawn, to a large house opposite, where living quarters for all the kobun were. After a frustrating fight with the door, I walked into my room, and collapsed on the bed, desperately trying to think of a way to cover the large red bruise that would be on my neck tomorrow morning.

**Bee: Yeah, so I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. Sorry it's kinda awkward, it gets better later on, I promise.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Bōryokudan: the police's name for the Yakuza (Japanese mafia). Literally means "violence group".**

**Oyabun: Literally "Foster parent". Head of the family**

**Kobun: ****Literally "Foster child". The collective family, excluding the oyabun**

**Shatei: "Little brothers"**

**Kyodai: "Big brothers"**

**Wakagashira: "first lieutenant"**

**Shateigashira: "second lieutenant**

Chapter 2

When I managed to wrench my eyes open at the crack of dawn, the first thing I was aware of was the throbbing in my temples, and a dull ache over my collar bone.

_Oh._

Brushing a finger gingerly across the brand at the base of my throat, I bit my lip a little at the sudden prickle of pain. My head flopped back again into the soft pillow – finest goose feather, no less, or so I was told by Yami when he first showed me to my room – and I heaved a long, melancholy sigh. When it didn't expel quite as much as I'd hoped, I swung my legs over the side of my bed and stretched my taut limbs. I rubbed blearily at my eyes, taking in the room which I had moved into less than twenty four hours ago. It was simple but pleasant, with creamy white walls, a single bed at one end of the room and a little table currently stacked high with books that I'd brought with me from home (along with a few choice yaoi novels). Against the opposite wall, next to a window with pretty venetian blinds that I was yet to suss out how to use, was a wooden wardrobe crammed full of clothes. Most of my own were spilled out onto the floor, while those that were hanging up were that of the White Dragon's official uniform. Apparently "official uniform" meant looking as wealthy, formal and _snobbish_ as possible, but then again the White Dragons were well known for being the best dressed mobsters in Japan – they were also the most violent, cruel and sadistic, but I decided I'd think about that later.

Padding across the plush carpet and stepping into the ensuite bathroom, I was struck instantly by the sight of myself in the gleaming full length mirror. Totally naked but for a pair of white boxers, it almost felt comforting to see that my appearance hadn't changed – still muscled, toned, still with dark tanned skin, still with thick shoulder length blond hair, rumpled by a restless night's sleep. The only difference was the raw, blistered and angry looking burn below my neck. The same eye symbol as that of Yami's gold ring, scorched into my skin, a stamp of loyalty. I was now the property of Don Kaiba, one of the Kobun, a White Dragon. Marked forever as a criminal. A mixture of horror at the burn and apprehension of what becoming a White Dragon could mean for me bubbled in my stomach.

After ten minutes of assessing the damage, I decided that the burn hurt a whole lot, and that I'd be wearing turtle necks for the rest of my life. With yet another laboured sigh I bent my head over the faucet, flipped on the cold tap and splashed my face until I felt like I could keep my eyes open for more than five seconds at a time. Stepping back out into my the ambient space carrying a towel and some fresh underwear, I hummed to myself absently, when-

"Good morning, Blondie"

"GAH-!" I started, practically throwing my underpants at him.

"I trust you slept well?" Seemingly unphased by the undergarments that had just flown at his face, now having flopped pathetically to the floor, Yami smirked at me. He was sat casually on my unmade bed, legs crossed, leaning back onto his hands stretched out behind him, with his head cocked slightly to the side. His eyebrow rose as I shuffled further into the room. It took me a moment to notice his eyes sliding up and down my body, his smile widening until his face had split into a gleeful grin.

"Oh – I – Uh…" I felt my face heat up as I awkwardly tried to cover as much of my bare flesh as I could. I silently cursed myself for throwing the towel at Yami a few moments earlier. My eyes cast down, willing the irritatingly expensive carpet to open up and swallow me whole; anything to escape the penetrating gaze of the man lounging on my bed. Hearing him chuckle darkly, I settled for wrapping my arms around my torso and crossing my legs so I felt marginally less exposed. I raised my head, praying he wouldn't notice the thoroughly rumpled copy of Junjou Romantica laying open at his feet. He was still grinning, but his eyes stayed firmly on mine this time.

"Am I scaring you again, Blondie? I do apologise. Profusely so, in fact. I only dropped in to tell you that your first training assignment is at seven o'clock sharp. You know what that means?" He asked enthusiastically, ploughing onwards before I could gather my thoughts to answer.

"It means you get to meet your tutor! I'm not sure exactly who it's going to be just yet, but I'll be able to tell you when I come back in –" He glanced down at a sleek Rolex he shook from under his sleeve "- forty five minutes to pick you up."

He looked back up, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

"Oh, I… Uh…" I shifted my feet a little, feeling somehow even more uncomfortable than before.

"Hm? Oh! I suppose I should go. Leave you to get yourself sorted." He sprung to his feet, towering over me, before crossing the room towards the door, brushing deliberately past me as he went. Before leaving, he turned and winked at me, smirking. Oh, Ra, was that a _leer_?

My skin crawled and my insides squirmed; I was alone in the alien environment once again.

. . . . . . . . . .

The expansive lawn of Kaiba manor glittered in the fresh morning sunlight, like a field of emeralds, the light frost crunching under foot. Yami was silent as he led me across the vast area of the grounds. I vaguely remembered sprinting across here, towards the kobun quarters last night, but I couldn't for the life of me remember why. Maybe those shots had affected me even worse than I thought. Damn. I really needed to learn to hold my drink.

The silence between Yami and myself was not like that which I had known before, at home in the tomb, quietly reading scriptures with Ishizu and not talking for hours at a time. That kind of silence was comforting, soothing – the silence now was horribly awkward. I got the feeling that Yami didn't seem to notice, though. Blonde bangs bouncing, he marched across the lawn (did I mention that it was huge?), me skipping hurriedly behind him, wondering if I should try to strike up a conversation. Then I remembered his crimson eyes raking over my naked body; cringing to myself, I quickly decided against that idea.

To my annoyance, the brand on my chest had not only blistered and scabbed over since last night, but had also swelled and developed into a throbbing bruise. It felt tender now as Yami and I neared the back entrance of Kaiba manor, still grand and thoroughly snobbish, but not nearly as white, marbled and gleaming as the pillars and grotesque gargoyles out front. The tail of Yami's jacket swished behind him as he walked. It seemed that overly large coat tails were obligatory if you were a White Dragon – everyone I'd met so far had been wearing their various coloured suits, with ties and shirts, and great, swooping coat tails. I felt my silvery light grey coat tails floating along behind me now, but none could match the coat tails of Don Kaiba. His pristine, stark white cloak seemed to defy gravity. Of course, most people who encounter the Oyabun barely got a chance to meet his eyes before he shot them in the face. And if they did, then sympathies to them, because he was probably going to kill them slowly and painfully.

I swallowed the bile rising in my throat as I contemplated all the ways that Don Kaiba could maim and mutilate me, and pushed my thoughts aside to find that Yami was holding a heavy wooden door open, waiting for me to step through. I gave him a wide berth, slipping through the door, and he followed, smirking a little. Oh, frigging hell, I wished that he'd just stop frigging smirking. I could practically feel him undressing me with his eyes as he walked behind me, and I prayed to Ra that it was just my imagination.

The door led through under the servant's quarters, which was very similar to the Kobun's quarters only slightly shabbier, and left down a side passage with intricate wooden panelling on the walls. It was fascinating to examine, to the extent that Yami had to clear his throat pointedly to keep me moving. After a while we turned left again, and the windows vanished – this part of Kaiba manor was dimly lit, and spooky to say the least. It was made worse when the corridor narrowed, and I felt Yami's warm breath tickling the back of my neck; almost seizing up with fright, I hurried along faster, the tall and intimidating Wakagashira chuckling lightly behind me.

The walk through the hidden passages of Kaiba manor continued in this way for another thirty seconds before, finally, we came to a heavy duty silver door. Sliding up next to me in the tight space, Yami furrowed his brow in concentration while he worked at the lock's keypad with nimble fingers. The buttons lit up as he pressed them, and a dull metallic clunk rung out from within the door itself. Drawing a breath and tensing up next to me, I watched the lean, suit clad man as he grasped two handles and heaved it towards us, opening the door with a hiss. He spoke for the first time since we'd entered the mansion, eyebrow raised and smirking once again.

"After you, Blondie."

He gestured for me to step through. Glancing behind me into the black vortex from whence we came, I walked without hesitation into the White Dragon headquarters.

. . . . . . . . . .

"Well, I'll be seeing you later, Blondie, you can be sure of that." Yami chuckled lightly in my ear, his voice barely above a whisper as we stood on the edge of the group.

"Wait, you're going?" I tried not to sound too pleased at this, glancing around the room; I knew it was far too small and unassuming to be a main meeting area, but it was impressive and imposing all the same. Large computer monitors and television screens lined the walls of an upper tier of the room, whilst lower down in the centre was a large oak table ringed with comfortable looking chairs. It seemed odd and out of place, something so grand and old surrounded by the cold steel and machinery.

I recognised most of the faces present from last night's party, but very few could I match names to. I vaguely recalled Joey, his blonde mop as scruffy as ever, and Tristan too – a few others were milling around drinking coffee in their designer suits. One guy who caught my eye was wearing a thin red waistcoat, and looked as if he could have been a frigging supermodel. His captivating green eyes were rimmed in thick black eyeliner, and his dark hair was thrown carelessly back into a ponytail. It wasn't until Yami spoke again that I was able to pick my jaw up off of the floor and focus on the conversation.

"I have business to attend to downstairs… You're in capable hands here, I assure you. I'm pretty sure you'll be meeting your tutor soon." There was the smirk again, and a quirk of that frigging eyebrow. Amused was too light hearted to describe his expression, though – it was more far more sinister.

"Uh… Do you know who it is? You mentioned, um, this morning –"

"Oh, I know _exactly_ who it is, Blondie. I just like watching you get all squirmy and anxious." He flashed me the biggest, most shit-eating grin ever. "Trust me, the next few weeks are going to be _very_ interesting for you." The words filled me with dread far more than I let on – externally, I simply frowned.

"I don't understand. Who is it?"

"You'll find out soon enough. And now, my obnoxiously expensive watch says it's time for me to go. Have fun, and if you need to find me, just follow the screams." He ducked down and, to my surprise and utter _horror_, pecked me on the cheek before winking and striding shamelessly away, hands in pockets and head held high. I flushed when I turned to see Joey and Tristan, watching me curiously. Great, what a fantastic first impression I was making. I rolled my eyes at my typically horrible fortunes, feeling my face heat up like a hot-plate, and tried not to draw attention to myself. I felt horribly awkward on the edge of the group. It was only a little while longer before a thick Brooklyn accent cut through the light background noise of conversation.

"Alright, is everyone here? I think we're just missing – nyeh, no worries, we can start without him. Welcome to your first day of training, White Dragons!" He said, clapping his hands together and beaming at no one in particular; I felt a little of the weight and worry lift from inside me as his kind eyes lit up with enthusiasm. "Now, let's see… Rex Raptor, Weevil Underwood, Marik Ishtar, if you'd like to step this way for a second?" My feet unconsciously carried me forwards until I stood beside the two shifty looking guys I'd taken the initiation with. They were a lot shorter than myself, huddled together and keeping their distance from me – I was alone, as always. Joey, who had been muttering again to Tristan and his huge, pointy hair, turned now, and pulled the three of us into a great, crushing hug. Amongst the shock, horror and complete awkwardness, I made a mental note that the White Dragons didn't understand the concept of personal space. I tried hard to hold my breath until Joey decided to free me from his grip, and when he finally did I thought I might be asphyxiated. Still grinning, he spoke again.

"So, noobs, how are ya finding being a White Dragon so far? I see you've… Uh… Been makin' friends already…" He said, stealing a sly, sidelong glance at me, "and I hope that I can be one of them! I'm one of the Kyodai, so you can just think of me as ya big brother. Now, let's see – I betcha just killin' yourselves over who your tutors are, huh? You'll be spendin' the next few weeks in some pretty intense training with 'em, after all. Your tutor'll be a buddy, of sorts, although, uh…" Another glance at me, "I guess that really depends who you're assigned to…" He's looking at me again, a slight frown passing across his features – was that a look of sympathy? For _me_? Oh _Ra,_ who the _FRIG_ had I been assigned to? As my stomach did sickening little flips, I glanced around the room, and for the first time this morning, I noticed – everyone's eyes were on me. And I don't mean in the nice, flattering kind of way. Panicking now, I did my best to keep my eyes down and pay attention to Joey, who it seemed had managed to come to the end of his speech while I'd been freaking out to myself.

"Alright, anyways – you'll spend the next few days with your tutors coverin' the basics and assessin' your skills, etcetera, and hopefully by then we'll be able to place ya in your various divisions, based on your talents and stuff like that." He finished with another grin. I tried to look calm and collected, but expected that I was failing miserably. "So, without further ado, I guess we'd better tell you who your tutors are… Um…" He turned to Tristan and muttered loudly "Jeez, where the _hell_ is he? Oyabun'll have Yami skin him alive if he keeps this up." He growled his disapproval before turning back to us. "Alright, Rex, you're with me. Weevil, you get Tristan, you lucky thing you, and Marik…" He turned again to me, clasping his hands together nervously and lowering his voice to just above a whisper. "Takin' into account your history and your, ah, let's say _advanced_ _training_, Don Kaiba decided to have you overlooked by one of his inner circle, as it were…"

I felt the blood leave my face. _Please_, I prayed, _not Yami…_

"But, well… Bakura's not actually here yet." He finished, looking a little uncertain.

Bakura? Huh. I almost sighed with relief that I wouldn't have to spend the next few weeks with Yami, but remembering the reaction this "Bakura" drew from the rest of the Kobun, I knew my relief would be short lived. My stomach had stopped churning, but I could still feel the eyes of the others in the room penetrating the back of my head. I sighed inwardly, watching as Joey picked up a large mug and held it out to me.

"Coffee?" He smiled sheepishly, and I couldn't help but smile back. I was thankful there was at least one friendly, sane person around here – at the rate things were going, I wasn't holding out for Bakura. From what I could gather, he was of a similar ranking to Yami, one of the Oyabun's inner circle. I'd learned from chatting with people at the party yesterday (that, admittedly, were varying degrees of drunk) that there were the _shatei_, or little brothers, the _kyodai_, or big brothers, and beyond that was the Don's inner circle: the Wakagashira, the Shateigashira, and the Saiko-Komon, meaning first lieutenant, second lieutenant and administrator. This was what made Yami all the more intimidating – the fact that he was the Oyabun's first lieutenant. With the thought that Yami could almost certainly kill me, blindfolded and with his hands tied behind his back, I decided I'd try my best to get along with Bakura. If he ever arrived.

"For Ra's sake, he knew what time we were supposed to be here, now he's holding everyone up, the whole schedule will be in ruins, and I bet he doesn't even give a shit, that selfish mother f- … Uh…" Tristan's rant about the mysterious Bakura was cut short. His eyes bugged out, and he seemed to almost choke in fright.

"Please, don't stop on my account, Mr Taylor. I was finding what you were saying simply fascinating…" A deadly purr floated down from directly above me – my head snapping up, I found the owner. A tall, lean, deathly pale man was hanging over the railing. His arms were folded, his head resting on one hand. Snowy white hair jutted out at awkward, dishevelled angles, pointed bangs hung low over his angular features, pale lips curved down at the corners and chocolate brown eyes. Chocolate brown eyes now focussed solely on Tristan, who had regained his composure.

"Don't play games with me, Bakura. You were meant to be here twenty minutes ago."

"Oh, you were counting? How sweet. I would have thought that a Kyodai of the highest ranking such as yourself could cope on his own, perhaps I should have you demoted to a Shatei division..?" The guy's voice was low and husky, gruff and so very _British, _the accent laid on thick, patronising and demeaning.

"Yeah… Well… Just – just don't let it happen again." Tristan trailed off, grumbling and muttering to himself under his breath. I felt bad for him, in a way - the British can be terribly intimidating, or so I'd heard. That feeling was cut short, though, when Bakura's eyes finally fell on me; suddenly, memories marred by an alcohol induce hazed became painfully sharp and focussed, pulling themselves to the forefront of my mind.

Oh.

_Oh._

I'd seen those eyes before, right before I'd abandoned the party and sprinted to my room last night… Oh _Ra_, this was bad. I half wished I'd been assigned to Yami after all.

And now I was all too conscious of the throbbing welt in the hollow of my neck.

I looked up again to find chocolate brown eyes watching me with interest. I scowled a little and cast my eyes down to my feet hoping that I didn't look too unsettled at the new revelation.

Thankfully, Joey chose this moment to chime in in his cheerful fashion, as if nothing had happened.

"G'mornin', Bakura – this here'd be Marik. He'll be yours to train up over the next few weeks." Bakura speared him with an icy glare, making Joey seize up and stammer. "Nyeh – uh – we wouldn't usually bother ya with this kinda thing, trivial stuff, y'know, but the Oyabun-"

"I'm fully aware of the matters which Don Kaiba has requested of me. In fact, he informed me of them personally. So thank you, Jounouchi, but I really don't have time to attend one of your mother's meetings. I'll be addressing the "special case" that I've been told to baby sit, and leaving." He sneered at the words "special case" – I realised with a jolt to the stomach that he meant me. I was the special case. I had never felt so intimidated, and small, and useless in my whole life. And that was certainly saying something. Bakura turned to me, now blanking the other White Dragons completely.

"Shooting range, 30 minutes. I'll be there to overlook your training once I've dealt with a few other matters." He seemed to notice my slightly confused expression, because he then added "Just a few minutes' walk south of the Kobun quarters. Identifiable by the tell-tale sound of gunfire…" Sarcasm dripping from his words, I felt my face heat up for about the fifth time since sunrise, and watched him as he turned on his heel and abruptly left. And that was it. My first and only encounter with my tutor, the person who I was supposed to be able to trust most within the White Dragon family; quite literally the biggest disappointment ever. Apart from maybe the time when I got a poisonous snake for Christmas.

Desperate to sink through the gleaming linoleum floor and vanish without a trace, I tried not to look at anyone, until I felt a hand slip under my chin and pull my head up; at that point, I didn't really have much choice. I found myself looking into the bright, kind eyes of Joey Wheeler.

"Don't sweat it, Marik. We all know that Bakura can be a little… Uh… difficult, at times, but we're all here for ya." He gestured around the circle at Tristan, Rex and Weevil, none of whom looked thrilled to be included in the "we", but it was comforting all the same. At least the White Dragons weren't all like Bakura and Yami.

. . . . . . . . . .

Seto Kaiba stepped out of his red Porsche, his white cloak billowing out behind him. The door slammed as the intimidating man pushed it with more force than was necessary. Damn Fudo, that smug bastard, thinking he would obey every summons like a dog. The only reason he was going to this ridiculous meeting, at Fudo's dirty hovel of a base, surrounded by those damn kids calling themselves Generation X, was because he wanted to know what that bastard had to say.

"Yo, Kaiba!" a teenage boy with fluffy brown hair strutted towards him. Kaiba scowled and glanced back into the car to see if his brother was still there. Sure enough, Mokuba Kaiba's permanently surprised eyes stared at him from the passenger seat. Kaiba motioned for him to get out and turned back to the teenager, who was now standing in from him, arms crossed and smirking.

"Yuki." the billionaire almost growled through gritted teeth. It was taking all his self-control not to rip the smirk right off his deceptively cute face.

"The boss' been waitin' for ya" holy Ra, he was infuriating

"Tch" Kaiba pushed past him and walked towards the ridiculously oversized garage, where the infamous motorbike gang, Satisfaction had set up their headquarters. How unprofessional. Holding meetings in the same pigsty they kept their filthy, noisy vehicles in.

"Good Morning, Kaiba-sensei." a deep, patronising voice ripped the oyabun out of his internal seething. He had arrived at the only presentable room in the entire shit hole: a pristine white-walled office, with a large mahogany desk. It would have been quite beautiful, had there not been a black haired insect sitting at it, hands crossed in front of him. The oyabun looked up and scowled into the all too familiar, condescending blue eyes of his rival.

"No it is not a good morning, Fudo." Kaiba growled "I have been dragged all the way to a dirty hovel on the outskirts of Fukushima, for a pointless meeting with a pretentious bastard" Fudo's fake smile faltered, and he returned to his usual stoic expression. The said bastard stood up and walked to the window behind him.

"This won't take long, Kaiba-sensei, I assure you." the man turned to Kaiba, who was still standing at the open door, giving him a look that was infuriatingly pitying.

"As I'm sure you know, you have an informer in the midst of your snobbish gang. I would just like to tell you, out of the kindness of my heart, that it is one of your "inner circle" as you like to call them." Kaiba's eyes widened. That was a lie. That teenager was just trying to throw him off.

"I don't believe you"

"You know that's not true, sensei" the oyabun turned with a swish of his cloak, and walked back down the narrow corridor. Suddenly, Fudo's lilting voice reached him from where the man was leaning against the window.

"Oh, nice job getting yourself an _Ishtar _by the way. It's such a _pleasure _to be able to finally catch the last one"

. . . . . . . . . .

**A/N**

**Chibi: Hullo thar! The other writer here. This is my first official chapter, and… I have to say, I'm pretty pleased with it, and I hope it was to everyone's taste. What with the ****introduction of Satisfaction and Yuki (grr… Yuki) things ****are really starting to heat up! The real action starts in the next chapter with Marik's first training assignment, and beyond… And let me tell you, Bee and I have some pretty thrilling stuff planned for this thing. I also wanted to mention that we were sup****er happy to see our story getting such lovely reviews, follows and favourites etc on just the first chapter. We really appreciate it ^.^ anyways, the next chapter, I'd imagine, will be up within the next week or so, what with it being summer and all… See y****ou next time :D**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: A note from Chibi ~**

**There are no excuses… It's been quite a while since Bee and I last posted. On the plus side, we've been in intense planning, and… Well. Let's just say we have some serious shit planned for this story ;D **

**Bee's excuse for not writing is that her brain has been totally empty apart from plotless and deliciously explicit smut, and my excuse is- well, there isn't one :S **

**We really tried to make up for the lack of updates here, in length and plot and stuff… There's even a flashback in this chapter. You know it's serious when there are flashbacks involved. Anyways, we worked really hard on this, so do enjoy, and please let us know what you think :D**

It was around 7:30 in the morning, barely after sunrise, when I eventually found myself stood in the shadow of an altogether unassuming concrete and corrugated iron building. It had taken me half an hour and directions from Joey to find the damn place, but I'd made it. My hair stood on end as I hugged myself in the lingering November haze - the kind that left tiny icicles of frost still clinging to flower petals, spilling out of the beds that grew around the gardens. A watery sun slid over the treetops now, golden light streaming through the whispering canopy of leaves overhead and leaving a trail of honey puddles on the ground, dappling through the thick woodland at the back of the Kaiba property. Joey had told me to walk through the maze of forest pathways until I found the training centre, and I'd done so; huffing out a puff of icy dragon's breath (and then rolling my eyes at the irony), I glanced up again.

The White Dragon training centre was the exact opposite of what I had been expecting – my mind's eye had built a sleek and high tech underground bunker somewhere, decked out with shooting ranges, simulation programs and deadly weaponry of every kind; the reality was what could only really described as a warehouse. A friggin' warehouse, I ask you. A weeping willow shrouded the rusted roof in its feathery tendrils, obscuring it slightly from view – "follow the sound of gunfire" he says, "easy to find" he says… That friggin' idiot. Too bad the warehouse was sound-proof, and in the middle of a friggin' _jungle_, otherwise Bakura's instructions might have been slightly less _useless_…

I brushed my negative thoughts aside, ready to get into a productive mind set. With numb fingers I picked the key from my pocket and reached for the heavy duty padlock on the door, again underwhelmed by the lack of futuristic technology, wondering if this really was the training centre. Were the others playing a prank on me..? Some practical joke this was. Bakura seemed perfectly capable of leading me on a wild goose chase through Kaiba's forest, but Joey… Well, I liked him, and I wanted to be able to trust him. Huh, I knew these White Dragon bastards were trouble. Cursing them under my breath with no one else in the dense and desolate forest to hear, I pushed the heavy, slightly rusted door open, and stepped blindly into the darkness within – and stumbled forward onto a step of some sort. Hm, odd. Squinting, my eyes adjusted enough to flick a large white switch to my left, and – Whoa. Bright white lights left spots dancing in my vision, as below me lights began to flick on. Beneath me, a tunnel of steel was revealed; suddenly, whole floors were lit, and I could see down through seemingly endless levels of an underground mafia _grotto_… YES. This was much more like it. Grinning like a fool, I could see training facilities of every kind imaginable - stacks of weapons, targets, gym complexes, and right at the very bottom… A shooting range. _Perfect._ The cold, only made worse by the shiny steel surroundings, suddenly didn't matter. Once I had a gun in my hand and something to shoot at, I didn't need anything else. Tinny metal footsteps ringing into the silence as I clunked down the steel steps, I bounded to the bottom of each level without hesitation. I passed many training stations I promised myself I'd snoop around later, but right now I was having a seriously friggin' crap morning and a gun in my steady hand meant steady thoughts. I was totally alone, apparently because of the "advanced training" that Joey had talked about. I knew Joey and Tristan would be together, anyway – they seemed pretty inseparable. When I reached the bottom level, I couldn't help pausing to let my jaw drop open once more… I mean, wow. The place stretched for what I would imagine to be about half a mile, although most of the bottom level was concealed, no doubt for different types of shooting and target training. A shiver of excitement rolled in a wave from the top of my spine to my toes in anticipation; I was unbeatable at blind training, and I prided myself in being a creature of the night… Sight wasn't a sense I was reliant on.

It didn't take me long to find the wall sized cabinet Joey had mentioned. I placed my hand on a sensor pad and was surprised to see my name flash up on the little screen, along with all my personal details – apparently, I was already in the system. I then proceeded to slide open the unlocked doors and pull at the various cabinets filled with guns of every kind, as well as terrifying looking machine guns, some lethal looking knives, a crossbow, and – was that a _sword_? Whoa, a Katana… I made a mental note to try it out later on. After a few moments of browsing my eyes fell upon an old friend of mine; a Smith & Wesson Model 686-2 Revolver .357 Magnum. Not the most deadly, not the most impressive, but accurate and reliable nonetheless. It was the very first gun I'd used as a child, and I'd grown to like the fact that it wasn't the most popular on the market; it was second best, overlooked, much like myself. This one, however, in fitting with the White Dragon's taste for showing off, had a beautiful ivory handle. I knew instantly that I wanted it to be mine. Brushing my fingers delicately along the cream coloured length, I sighed as I wrapped my fingers around it – the ivory handled weapon fit snugly in my hand, and there was some comfort in its familiarity, the weight of the cold metal relaxing me. I suddenly felt as though I could almost be at home here, whilst popping open the chamber with a quiet _snick_ and slipping in six silver bullets, given time. It seemed as if the people here weren't all bad… Murderous criminals, sure. Organised villains, that was fair enough. Crime and villainy was all I'd ever known; it shouldn't take me long to adjust to my new environment. The White Dragons were a family, a Yakuza, after all. And yet, somehow… I felt as if it just wasn't right. I didn't belong here, not really. A tug heaved in my stomach when reality crashed down on me, crossing the concrete floor towards the shooting range, that it didn't matter whether or not I belonged. Whether I felt comfortable in my new home or whether I wanted to be here at all – it didn't matter because I had sworn an oath. I was branded. I was doomed to live life as a White Dragon, and to inevitably die as one. I stopped in the middle of the cavernous bottom level to digest that thought. Well, that was a friggin' depressing notion if ever there was one. With a shake of my head, I brushed the thought aside, moving on light feet across the floor and making barely a sound.

The shooting range itself was a wide grey space, in this section a ring of targets encircling a single cross in the centre of the floor, with a wall sized mirror on the wall opposite the weapons cabinet. I frowned – it seemed a little primitive, if I was brutally honest, but I supposed it would have to do. Now standing on the cross, I bent down and looked a little closer – to find a panel set into the floor, a selection of buttons there. This was far more promising. Gingerly prodding one of the buttons and nibbling on my lower lip, I jumped about a foot in the air and landed on my backside when I felt the whirring of machinery under me – something was clanking around directly beneath my feet, and I had the craziest visions of the floor splitting open and me falling through a hatch into some kind of giant meat grinder… and then the targets began moving. Oh. Yeah, I supposed that could explain the noises too. Picking myself up and brushing off my gorgeous suit (damn, I hoped it wasn't damaged), I watched as the targets rotated around me, and felt myself blushing a little. Although I was completely alone, I could still hear the faintest mocking laughter drifting through my subconscious – I cursed, spat viciously at the floor, and turned my attention back to the targets. They were going at about running pace, which made the training more realistic, at least.

That was enough time contemplating, though. Taking a deep, penetrating breath all the way into my lungs, I practised what my father had called co – meditation, or cross breathing, something he said was practised by many ancient religions to reach a deep state of meditation or something… He taught it to me as a way to channel emotion and stress before killing. Standard father and son practise, I thought with a vindictive twitch of my mouth. I stood perfectly still in the wide space, arms and loaded revolver hung by my side, breathing deeply;

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

I flexed my toes.

In.

Out.

I flexed my shoulders.

In.

Out.

Closing my eyes, I listened to my surroundings.

In.

Out.

After a few minutes, I was under. Submerged within myself, my thoughts melted into one constant thrum, a pulsating web of energy, something more than myself. Something… Well, else, I supposed.

In my intoxicated state, I knew nothing but the sounds and smells of what lay beyond my closed eyelids. I knew nothing but the vibrations and movements I could feel, my senses sharp and my instincts clawing their way to the forefront of my mind, filtering down my throat and into my body, wrapping their spindly fingers along my limbs until I became a being of instinctive bloodlust, a beast, a killing machine.

A tingle of anticipation creeping up my insides, I snapped my eyes open, and fired.

Bakura had lied about having "other matters" to deal with. Unless a cup of tea and a ginger biscuit could be counted as other matters. He stood now in the Oyabun's observation room by his own cute little teapot, over a matching cup already filled with milk and sugar, contemplating the meaning of life and all the ways in which he could skin Tristan alive. He'd always loved this teapot – it had been his mother's- and there were little white kittens bouncing across the surface. Hm. Cute kittens. Smiling to himself (something he did very rarely) he absently swirled the milk around his cup, thinking about anything and everything other than what he really ought to be thinking about at this moment – the new one, Ishtar. He seemed average enough. Bakura remembered feeling slightly underwhelmed at the sight of him that morning. He expected someone burlier, perhaps more battle worn for the Oyabun to have made such a big fuss of him – not this _little boy_. As the warm, musty smell of tea fogged his mind, he remembered that first night, the night he'd received a phone call from Seto Kaiba himself.

"My private meeting chamber, ten minutes. The matters concerning cannot be discussed on the phone." The gruff voice had promptly ceased when the Don had hung up, not allowing the snowy haired demon to protest at the early hour, or even take a single breath to conjure his response – he was simply left sat up in bed, bleary eyed but most definitely awake. He'd never known it to happen, being _personally summoned _by the prestigious leader of the White Dragon Yakuza, and had never thought for a second that it would. Whatever had happened, it had to be pretty dire. It was this single factor that had flared Bakura's untameable curiosity; he had immediately hauled himself out of bed and let his spilling sense of mischief and nosiness guide him across the lawns to the looming manor under a clear, star powdered sky. He had not even considered flopping back to sleep.

_The three of us sit around a large oak table in the Oyabun's office – the same one which the new initiates will drink sake around in just under a week's time. The room is lit dimly by flickering candlelight, highlighting the cross beams in the ceiling and casting an eerie shadow across the face of my brother sitting opposite me. We brood in silence, the three of us, each alone with our thoughts, while something a little more tangible hangs heavy in the cool air around us; a single question. _

Why?

_Why does the Oyabun call his three most trusted subordinates to his office at this hour of the morning? What could possibly be so pressing as to warrant such urgent summons? I glance up to see Ryō, dressed in naught but a shirt and pale slacks, raising an eyebrow in my direction. The slightest frown plays across his delicate features. A little to my left, Atem stares at a notch of wood in the table while breathing deeply into his tightly linked hands, elbows propped up stiffly on the table. I shrug at Ryō, the slightest hint of a gesture, but he nods minutely and we each avert our gazes once more. The thick silence continues for another ten minutes or so before the double doors at the back of the room open with a soft creak, and a tall white-cloaked man steps inside._

"_Good morning, gentlemen," a quiet but commanding voice fills the void of unbroken silence, breaking the reverie._

"_Good morning, Don Kaiba" we all stand, and are seated again only when the Oyabun is settled in his throne-like chair at the head of the meeting. It is immediately apparent that he's on edge by the way he perches in his seat and leans forward towards us._

"_It seems that we have pressing matters to discuss which simply cannot wait until the morning; but before we begin, I must ask that you do not take the words uttered here beyond these walls. It is of utmost importance that you do not repeat the information which I am about to share with you." He looked pointedly at each of us in turn before, satisfied, continuing. His tone is hushed, but his voice rings in the hush of the room, the tension crackling like electricity._

"_As I'm sure you're aware, we're due to hold initiations next week for two new members who go by the names Rex and Weevil – they are unimportant, most likely expendable – however, another more intriguing character has come forward, requesting the initiation. This candidate is looking for protection against our rivals, Satisfaction. And, well… So comes the dilemma we are facing." The Oyabun frowns momentarily, a rare flicker of emotion flitting across his face. "The boy is an Ishtar."_

_Silence. Stunned silence, or maybe something a little deeper. Calculating._

"_An Ishtar? That certainly is… Fascinating, Don Kaiba." Yami is the first to speak; for once he does not look smug or condescending, but deep in thought. "So, you were wondering whether we should accept him? I don't mean to state the obvious sir, but couldn't we just… well, kill him?"_

"_That thought certainly has crossed my mind, Atem, of course it has… but the advantages of taking this boy on board are far too great to be ignored. The fact is that we could gain a lot from having an Ishtar in our rankings. My thoughts on the matter are as follows – to be frank, it's a miracle he escaped The Purge to begin with, let alone survived this long on his own. Regardless of his family ties, he is sure to be a great asset… I doubt even our most experienced could have escaped such a brutal culling as the boy seems to have. He's been hidden for a long time, the fact that he's broken his cover could mean that he's genuinely desperate, and therefore not in a position to pull any kind of stunt on us… We know that he's not with Satisfaction. I don't see that we have anything to lose by recruiting him." We all take a moment to digest this avalanche of thoughts and theories. My brother speaks next._

"_He could be a valuable source of information… I mean…" he looks a little uncomfortable. "No one outside Satisfaction knows what really happened in those last few days. It could be interesting, at least…" He trails off, talking almost to himself. I nod my head in agreement, and he continues with the smallest of smiles flashed in my direction._

"_Although I still think it's risky. Whether he knows it or not, he's powerful. Or he will be, once the Kobun learn who he is. This is a sticky one, sir."_

_More silence, again, calculating. My brother's crude "sticky" analogy is undeniably accurate. This is a surprise, to say the least – the Ishtars are dead, wiped out in The Purge – a dark stain on Yakuza history. Admittedly, this is rather a lot to digest. Nothing much surprises me these days, I'll be the first to say it, but this? This is certainly something I could not have predicted. While Yami babbles on about something undoubtedly irrelevant, I turn over the information in my mind, and the more it rattles around in my head the clearer it seems. Without hesitation, I cut through Yami's rambling. I feel a harsh scowl carve itself across my brow._

"_We can't afford to sympathise with the boy, Kaiba. Regardless of his situation, he's not a White Dragon, and he never _truly _will be. If you're planning to take him under your _wing_, Coro, you might as well resign now. You're going soft." My voice drips with sarcasm._

"_Bakura, I appreciate your opinion, but I suggest you shut the fuck up before I have you skinned. You can tell me that I'm going soft while you're hanging by your thumbs with your kneecaps smashed and your testicles rammed down your throat."_

_Yami shifts uncomfortably next to me, while Ryō smirks dangerously. The silence is stifling._

"…_I think I'd find it difficult to talk with my balls in my mouth, sir." The young Oyabun's face draws itself into a hard mask whilst Ryō stifles a giggle; our eyes meet and suddenly we're a pair of mischievous brothers again, daring to crack a grin while a furious grownup scolds us. Of course, it's very different nowadays - grownups don't generally try to tell you off when you carry a .22 in your back pocket._

"_He has a point, though." Yami seems fascinated again with the notch in the table, his shoulders set and his elbows propped up once more as his voice slick voice seeps into the air. "Why take an unnecessary risk? Kill him and be done with it. For once, I agree with Bakura." The Coro purses his lips, and I can almost hear the cogs whirring in his brilliant mind. _

"_Hmm. You all have very valid opinions, although admittedly some are more eloquently worded than others…" His eyes flick up to me, the cold blue skewering me where I sit. I refrain from smirking._

"_As much as I know it will cause a stir amongst the ranks, I'm leaning towards bringing him in. I'll remind you gentlemen that not only are we a business, but a family also. He may not be our kin, but there's no reason why he couldn't be. Besides, a young man so promising as he could be an asset when driven by vengeance…" He pauses, leaning forward as if to share a deep and revealing thought or secret. When he speaks, his tone is even and more hushed than before, his mouth pulled up at one corner. "He will be our weapon."_

The boiling water, a rich reddish brown, slopped over the side of the tea cup. Bakura shook his head, clearing the fog and pulling himself back to full concentration. Hurriedly finishing the making of his tea, he quickly picked it up and brought it to his lips… Mmmmm. Tea was his drug, there were no doubts; a pleasant feeling similar to that of an afterglow fizzed through his veins, and he sighed.

A few minutes later he was settled on, or rather _in,_ a large plush beanbag which swallowed him as he flopped down onto it. With two large ginger biscuits balanced on his knee and a bucket sized cup of Earl Grey cradled in his lap, he rested his head on the cushion behind him, and waited. The beanbag was set before a wall sized window at the front of the viewing room. The viewing room itself was composed of warm red and brown colours, and blanketed in plush rugs. The room beyond the transparent wall was larger, less cosy, grey and bare but for a circle of targets and a large marker in the centre. It was commonly known as the beginner's range, simply because it was so basic. This range was used to observe new members of the Kobun; Bakura personally preferred the range with the large stone blocks and the guns that fired a powerful on contact adhesive – he smirked at the memory of his last trip there with Ryō. The smaller of the two brothers had taken a hit in his ear and been made temporarily deaf, whereas Bakura himself had been pulling wads of taffy like substance out of his white locks for a month.

Bakura looked forward to seeing how his protégé fared against this delightful challenge. He was wickedly curious to observe the boy's abilities, and looked forward to pushing him to his limits; he knew a number of ways in which he could push a person over the edge, and beyond - the white haired demon was famous among the Kobun for his merciless teaching style.

He waited a little longer.

As he was slurping up the last dregs of tea, a slender young man bounded down the steps across the room from the mirror, beyond the ring of targets, almost slipping over as he crashed down onto the concrete floor. He skittered a little way before straightening up again and pulling his grey suit straight. His high cheekbones were flushed a delicate pink. Bakura watched the young Ishtar with his head cocked slightly to the side, saw as he glanced around the bottom level of the training facility, spotting the large cabinet stretching along the opposite wall and skipping along on light feet. How funny, and ironic in a way, that the last of the infamous Ishtars should be this tiny little boy… A tiny little boy who _skips._ He smirked at the effeminate movements; when the slight figure did a little hop-skip on his toes like a ballerina, Bakura almost choked as he snorted and the last of tea shot up his nose.

A few moments later, tea dripping down his chin, Bakura cursed and pulled a red silk handkerchief from the pocket of his black shirt, wiping it disgustedly across his face. Meanwhile, Ishtar had found his way into the cabinet and was rifling around clumsily. The sight made Bakura cringe – that stupid brat getting his mucky fingers over everything, and – ugh, _no,_ not the_ Katana_. If there was so much as a_ ghost_ of a smudge on it, he would strangle the boy.

Eventually, though, the blonde child tucked a stray wisp of hair behind his ear and resurfaced from the cabinet holding a simple looking pistol (Bakura noted the ivory handle- the boy had taste, it had to be said). His expression was one of wonder, and he looked absurdly childish. Not for the first time since they'd met, Bakura wondered how on earth this _kid_ could be a killer. He looked like he would come out worse in a fight with a kitten, in all honesty, and Kaiba thought he was a_ weapon? _Weapon seemed like a big respected Kaiba, all things considered – he was a good leader, he had a ruthless attitude, and they had a mutual repect for each other… But this, this just seemed like the Coro had totally lost it. The British gangster was utterly flabbergasted. Over his years as one of Don Kaiba's close subordinates, he'd learned to trust the Coro's judgements, but this seemed a step over the line. He was sceptical of the boy, to put it lightly… He was, however, extremely curious also. It was true that the Ishtar _had_ escaped The Purge with his life, and – well. Bakura was damned if he knew how.

So, it was with a kind of detached interest that the fluffy haired villain observed the boy, stepping up to the cross in the centre of the range, prodding at the buttons in the floor. Bakura had only broken his thoughtful silence when he'd cackled loudly at the boy startling and falling on his behind; he'd then had to clamp his mouth shut when the petite blonde had glanced around for the source of the laughter.

The next thing that happened threw Bakura completely: for ten solid minutes, the boy stood on the cross, facing towards the mirror, eyes closed, arms by his side. And that was it. For ten solid minutes his only movement was the steady rising and falling of his chest. For ten solid minutes, Bakura sat watching him, staring directly at him. He was thrown even more by the bizarre weight in the pit of his stomach – an uncomfortable feeling that he was seeing something he really shouldn't be. Something personal, something _indecent_. For ten solid minutes he fidgeted restlessly, inexplicably hot under his stiff black collar. He honestly had no idea what to do with himself, other than having a horrible urge to stop looking, to turn away. But why should he? He was the Shateigashira, dammit, he could do what he bloody well pleased. And so, for ten solid minutes, he watched.

Just when Bakura was starting to think that the boy had somehow died standing up, he blinked, and he was gone. He moved so fast, so suddenly and so slickly, with such natural speed and agility, he couldn't quite believe –

It was over as quickly as it had begun. In the time it had taken for Bakura's jaw to drop open and his teacup to smash on the ground, the boy had planted a bullet squarely the forehead of the each of the six human-shaped targets, all of them still pinging from the impact when the boy stood in the centre again, his face relaxed. Bakura did a double take as he watched the boy open his violet eyes – surely not? He stood up now; springing to his feet and approaching the glass with caution, pressing his palms flat either side of his face and peering through. Breathing fast, he looked around at the still moving targets, all punctured in the exact same place; surely, he didn't do that with his eyes closed..? No. Ridiculous. Of course not.

But it had. He'd seen it happen. Had he blinked, he would have missed it, but there he was, stood before him, a small and slight boy… A weapon. Bakura smirked. He had never been more thrilled, _excited_ to be proved wrong. The Ishtar boy was brilliant… And he was all his.

**A/N: so… hello again :D there we go, I suppose that's all for now. I really hope the chapter was ok, and stuff… Bee and I are pretty new to the whole writing thing, so reviewers are welcomed, given cookies and glomped at this point… After all, we want to make this the best we possibly can! *annoyingly happy and cheerful face :D***

**There shouldn't be nearly as big a gap between chapters this time, and next the chapter of White Dragon promises:-**

**-LEMONS**

**-FIGHT SCENES**

**-LEMONS**

**-YAOI**

**So do come back and have some fun with us :D**

**PS - thank you so much for the reviews that we HAVE got so far... Consider yourself thoroughly glomped and force fed cookies.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N **

**Here's a little poem written by Bee herself during the short hiatus ~**

**_I'm trying to write yaoi_**

**_But I've got writers block,_**

**_And poor horny Bakura_**

**_isn't getting any cock._**

**It's been a hideous amount of time since we've posted, and we apologize profusely – it's been months (I wish I was exaggerating) but there's good reason, I promise. I've had various mock exams to revise for, caught up in going back to school and whatnot, plus it seems that my social life has become, well, ****_existent_**** recently. I know, I'm as surprised as you are. Anyways, Bee and I are excited to have finally gotten back to our favourite ship, and we're ready to crack on with this story – expect more frequent updates in the future :D**

**Now, I know that we promised you fight scenes, and they're coming, trust us, but right now brace yourself for a chapter of character development and citrusy goodness. **

**And then God said ****_LET THERE BE LEMONS._**

Chapter four

"I-Ishtar!?"

A devilish smirk spread the boy's face.

"Yes...why, do you know of any other sexy blonde bombshell around here?" the aforementioned sexy blonde eye candy stood up and stalked, with a feminine grace that would make most women shoot their heads off with jealousy, towards the currently dumbstruck white-haired demon. As he approached, he stroked his slender hand across the man's shoulder and pressed his lips against his ear.

"If you say Joey, I won't be pleased" for a reason unknown to him, Ishtar's lilting voice went straight to Bakura's dick.

And because Bakura wasn't used to having to control his groin, the boy was pressed to the wall within the blink of an eye.

Bakura wasn't one for small talk either. Any objections that Ishtar would have voiced were cut off with a rough kiss. Wasting no time on the pretence of romance, the demon sank his surprisingly sharp teeth into the boy's plump lip, taking advantage of his moan, and forcing his tongue against the blonde's. In an attempt to persuade the currently frozen male back to life, he rubbed their tongues together, grinding against his slim body. After what seemed like several minutes, Ishtar moaned and returned the demon's advances, half-heartedly at first, but after a particularly sharp squeeze of his alluring ass, the boy took control. Before he knew it, Bakura was pushed forcefully onto the desk, his shirt having been violently ripped off, and an adept tongue was making its way down his pale chest with a carnal intensity. The boy only briefly paused to nip at Bakura's nipple, extracting a gasp from the now rather vulnerable-looking demon, before grazing down to the waistband of his slacks. Violet eyes roamed unashamedly up the body before him, the wicked smirk spreading slowly back onto the boy's face. He looked straight up at the demon as he teasingly clamped his teeth around the zip and pulled it down, his hands sneaking up to Bakura's hips and pulling off the remainder of his unnecessary clothing. On instinct, Bakura raised his hips to help the now rather eager boy to slide off his pants, his breathing becoming harsh and ragged with anticipation. Ishtar smirked at the older man for a few seconds more, before biting his lip, angelic cheeks slowly colouring with a light blush.

He couldn't resist. Bakura pulled the deceptively cherubic blonde into a chaste kiss that shocked both of them. Before long, the kiss had turned heavy and erotic, both males' tongues battling for dominance. Distracted, Bakura didn't notice the lithe fingers grazing gradually lower down his body until they wrapped around his length and started stroking it at a teasingly slow pace. Only just able to bite down the loud moan the boy's teasing caused, Bakura up arched into the nimble hand in an attempt to speed up the movement.

"Eager..are…we?" the lilting voice had lost none of its appeal and forced a quiet groan from the usually apathetic man.

"Sh-shut..the…fuck….u-up" Bakura growled impatiently and almost pushed the cocky blonde down to his crotch. Said cocky blonde giggled and placed a small kiss on the irritated man's lips before nipping down his heaving chest. After what seemed like hours to Bakura, the boy reached his crotch. Marik paused to lick his lips sensually and looked up through his lashes at the demon before sucking one of his balls into his mouth and letting go almost immediately, drawing a loud gasp from the man. An adept tongue worked its way up the demon's throbbing length as the lithe fingers lightly massaged the tip, making Bakura writhe and whine in his desperate endeavour not to make a sound. The Ishtar boy's sweet face scrunched up into an irritated frown.

"Moan already you idiot" the boy demanded haughtily. Instead, Bakura growled again and bucked his hips up sharply.

"Get….on...with…it…Ishtar" The boy replied by roughly sucking the head into his mouth, making Bakura snap his eyes open.

Then, suddenly, the figure in-between his legs disappeared and he found himself sprawled on his chair in the empty observation room, fully dressed, painfully horny and very, very pissed off. Disbelieving, he looked down at himself, just to be sure – shit. Still dressed. No Ishtar. Hm. He glanced around again, slightly dazed and confused. The observation room was the same as it had always been, though the air was thick and heavy with the smell of sweat and arousal. Huffing to himself, he pulled himself up out of the beanbag and straightened out his shirt. His cheeks flushed with embarrassment and something that resembled shame, although he was still completely alone. He felt the walls were watching him, mocking him with their prissy floral wallpaper. How the hell had he even fallen asleep, anyway? That was the last time he spent the night raiding Kaiba's wine cellar. The expansive grey room before him was devoid of gunshots now; obviously, he'd missed the end of the Ishtar boy's training session. He bristled, remembering the dream, horribly aware of how tight his slacks had become. Pacing swiftly across the plush carpet, he left the room and skulked back to his quarters in search of a cold shower.

. . . . . . . . . . .

It was with an oddly heavy heart that I ascended the stairs back up through the levels of the training centre. I had waited for over two hours, or so my watch told me, and I was certain that Bakura wasn't going to show. What he could possibly be doing that took two hours, and was more important than – no. I shook that thought away. Pretty much everything was more important to Bakura than me and my training. I imagined that he'd be more interested in _dust_ than in me. As I made my way to the door, a gentle breeze brushed my bangs from over my eyes, the lightest caress that felt warm and yet sent a chill down my spine.

Crunching my way through the brown and crinkly carpet of autumn's leaves, I sighed and tilted my head back, gazing up at the arcing canopy above. Now that the sun was fully raised, the leaves were far less glowing than ablaze with the morning light. Beautiful, truly. It wasn't often that I'd seen beautiful things in my short life, and far less often did I have the freedom to stop and admire them at my leisure. The patchwork of greens and browns shivered as the wind picked up a little, carving shadowy trenches in the forest floor. The scene was tranquil, and above all else, free. How ironic, as I lifted my fingers to absently brush over the brand in the hollow of my neck. At that moment, I was the furthest thing from free. As I contemplated, a hot and heavy feeling of nostalgia coursed through me, rendering me numb, tugging at my stomach and threatening to throw me off balance with the wind suddenly picking up. I was so far from home, and so alone. No one really cared about me here. It was the truth that I'd been trying to evade for a while, but it was something I couldn't run from. And who would? Really? It wasn't like I was anything special. Sure, my family history made me interesting. Maybe. But once people got to know me, they'd lose interest. They usually did. In the tomb, Ishizu would whisper to me in the darkness. In the flickering light of a dying candle, the last wisps of smoke dispersing into the gloom, she'd whisper sweet nothings to me until I fell asleep. With thoughts of my sister's soft features, the scent of dirt and dust and of lotus on soft linen, I was struck by a blinding feeling of homesickness. It was only when I glanced down and saw dark wet blotches on the lapel of my jacket that I realised I was crying.

_"Where are we going, Ishizu?"_

_"We're going somewhere special. You'll love it, I promise."_

_"Special? You're not making any sense, sis."_

_"You'll see, we're almost there. It's almost time."_

The shadows shifted again.

_"Look behind you, Marik."_

My shoulders tensed, and before I could stop myself my pistol was drawn, hips pivoting me by 180 degrees on the balls of my feet into a battle stance.

For a moment, there was silence.

_"_Always_ look behind you, Marik."_

A blot of sunlight illuminated a darkened patch of undergrowth, throwing it into view, and – the bush shivered, and was still. I strained my ears: something, or, as my senses told me, _someone _skittered away into the gloom.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Hey, Marik, buddy!" An overly friendly and enthusiastic swish of blonde flashed in front of my eyes – I hit the floor with a painful thump. Joey was sprawled across me, elbows jabbing and legs flailing, grinning wildly from ear to ear. For a second, I couldn't help but feel a smile creep onto my face, but then I caught a glimpse of Yami over the top of the blonde mop. He was watching me with a smirk.

"You're just in time for breakfast, my friend," he bounced to his feet, leaving me in a splattered heap on the floor of the dining hall. The place was subdued, only a few of the round wooden tables occupied. I felt my face heat up as a few curious and some hostile glares were thrown my way, and Joey offered me his hand. Once hoisted up, I brushed down my suit and blushed furiously. I suddenly felt inexplicably self-conscious.

"So, what do you fancy?" Joey breezed, practically dragging me through the wide space towards a communal kitchen at the back of the dining area. As we moved through the ground floor of the Kobun quarters, heated glares penetrated the back of my skull. It bothered me more than I cared to admit that I couldn't go anywhere without being subject to staring. Ugh. Had they not seen a hot blonde in a suit before? Tch, I frigging hated these people already and I hadn't been here twenty four hours.

"The bacon's fantastic – not like normal bacon, but streaky, you know? It's the highlight of my day, dude." He babbled in again. Reluctantly, I let him pull me towards the smell of, I admitted to myself grudgingly, delicious food.

I listened with one ear as Joey chattered incessantly about food and training and Tristan, the other tuned intently on the rest of the dining hall. I found myself acutely aware of the others in the hall, a tense hush settled over the other Kobun. Hm. Tail between my legs, I ducked out of the room and into the kitchen.

"You seem kinda upset, Marik – uh… did, um… Something happen?" Joey looked away awkwardly. From his expression and his reluctance to look me in the eye, it didn't take me long to see what he was talking about. As I did my best to feign apathy, he shuffled around hesitantly, eventually sighing and plopping two slices of a bagel into a toaster.

"Huh. If you're talking about that scary guy with the white hair," his eyes flicked up guiltily "nothing happened. He never showed up to train me." Damn Bakura. Damn him. Damn his making me feel so frigging vulnerable. So unwanted.

"Aw, man. I'm sorry. I know how he can be, we all do." Oh. Apparently the bitterness had shown after all. "I'd have trained you myself, honest, but Kaiba wanted you watched over by the fluffy one. Direct orders, ya see. Whatever happens, no matter how – uh, odd it seems that you were assigned to him, I'd still be inclined to trust the Oyabun. He knows his stuff, better than any of us."

"Yeah, I guess." Huh. Direct orders. This was bad – I'd really hoped I wouldn't draw too much attention to myself. So far I was failing miserably. "Well… It doesn't matter. Don't worry about it, I can cope. I'm a big boy, y'know."

"Oh, I think we can all see how much of a big boy _you _are…" I almost dropped my plate in surprise when a deep voice cut in unexpectedly – Yami leaned over the kitchen counter, through the large window between the kitchen and the dining hall, and leered at me dangerously. How the hell had he managed to creep up on me like that? Frigging hell, he really had it in for me.

"Leave him alone, ya big bully." Joey joked nervously, trying to look casual while eyeing up the pair of us. He obviously didn't really understand what was going on with Yami and me – he had about as much of a clue as I did. Trying insanely hard not to pout and scuttle away in utter shame, I looked the spikey haired Wakagashira in the eye.

"Could you, uh… Not do that? It's a bit creepy. You know. The whole creeping thing. It's creepy."

Why don't you tell him he's creepy again, Marik, in case he didn't get that the first time? Ugh. Stupid brain can't make words.

"Aw, don't be like that, Blondie. You know I mean you know harm…" He grinned again, and I felt myself flushing. I was struck by a horrible feeling that my brain might die if my blood spent any longer filling my cheeks."Why don't you and Jounouchi come sit us? I'm sure you'd love some company while you eat." He didn't even wait for an answer – just winked at me (I retched internally) and then swept away, his coat tails swishing around him in a whirl. I watched him walk back to a table across the hall while half listening to Joey mutter "Joey, it's _Joey_!" under his breath.

By the time I'd picked up an apple and sliced it using the knife I had stashed in my belt, Joey's bagel was done and we were ready to leave the kitchen. He hesitated before looking a me questioningly.

"Shall we, uh..?"

"We can go sit with Yami, it's fine, honestly." Ha. My churning stomach begged to differ.

I walked as close to my blonde haired guardian as I could as we crossed back through the hall so as to avoid the staring. When I almost fell on my ass after tripping over is heels, my plan failed.

"Hello there, Marik. How are you? You looked pretty drunk last night." A familiar voice said – I looked up to see Ryō smiling at me from his seat next to Yami's, sipping at a cup of coffee and surrounded by discarded sugar sachets.

"Oh, hi. Uh, yeah… I had a pretty rough one last night. Haha… Ha…" I trailed off awkwardly, inspiring a raised eyebrow from the snowy haired Kyodai.

"Any reason why you suddenly vanished? I was looking forward to drinking you under the table once I'd finished my shift at the bar. From what I've heard," He glanced at Yami, now back to pottering around in the kitchen and visible over the counter, "it wouldn't have been too difficult." His eyes were still kind, but his smile had turned mischievous.

"Heh. Yeah, I heard enough from this one" I nodded at Joey "last night about how I can't hold my drink. I think I must have just dragged myself drunkenly across to the house or something, huh." I said, while mentally stabbing myself in the face for thinking about Bakura and his biting.

His biting tendancies.

Maybe he was a closet cannibal.

"Don't fret; you'll be a champion once Joey and I are done with you. Come, sit." Ryō smiled warmly and indicated to a seat next to him, and I obliged. Popping a chunk of my apple into my mouth, I watched Joey pull up a chair next to me.

"So, I hear you met the Ice Queen."

"Hmm?" I garbled through a mouth full of apple. He giggled, a high and childish sound, like the tinkling of a bell.

"Your mentor, Bakura. We call him the Ice Queen. Well, I do, anyway. He'd probably gut anybody else." I was confused.

"He lets you call him things like that? Wow, you're seriously brave. I wouldn't want to cross the guy."

He frowned, before understanding blossomed on his pale features and he smiled. This guy sure did a lot of smiling for a ruthless Mafia leader.

"Oh, did you not know..?" He looked at me quizzically. I was definitely missing something here.

"Bakura - he's my brother." Oh.

Lightbulb.

Of course they were brothers. The resemblance was startling now that I looked properly. For Ra's sake, I was frigging useless. He seemed to see my internal scolding and giggled again.

"Oh, bless you, honey. Don't worry, it's just that most people notice. Either that or they think that Bakura is me in a really bad mood." Leaning in, he lowered his voice. "This one time, a lady thought that I was Bakura on _happy pills_. Now _that_ was a weird day."

I chuckled despite myself. It wasn't so much the anecdote than the image of that ratty, white haired lunatic on drugs that amused me, though.

"So, you're brothers… You've known him your whole life?"

"Well, yeah. We grew up together."

"Right, dumb question. Ha ha. But, I mean… He seems really, I don't know. Antisocial? He didn't show up to my training this morning, I wondered whether he was like that with everyone."

"He stood you up, huh?" Ryō quirked an eyebrow and gave a little smile that let on more than he meant it to.

"What?" I asked, alarmed. "What do you mean by that?"

"Nothing, Little One. I'll go have words with my big brother, make sure he doesn't treat you like that again. You've nothing to worry about." I sighed and crunched on another slice of apple as Ryō got up to leave. "And if you have any more problems with that grumpy fucker you come to me, ok?"

"Yeah, I guess. Thanks."

He smiled, happy, before slipping his hands into his pockets and walking out of the hall. Joey, having zoned out of the conversation, now glanced up. I cracked a grin at his mouth stuffed with sausages.

"Aw, he seems nice."

"It's not him, Marik, it's you. People like you, I can tell you don't think it, but it's true." He gulped down his mouthful before continuing. "But hey, here's something – who the _hell_ is that short-ass calling _Little One_?"

. . . . . . . . . . .

Bakura stood with his face upturned in the freezing cascade of water and waited for his throbbing erection to recede. He had not given this a second thought – relieving his arousal manually had not once crossed his mind. Bakura had no need to fulfil _those_ kinds of desires. He was a strong spiritual being, mind and soul, and when his body cried out for something so carnal as sexual pleasure, he ignored it. He had no need for it. It was primal instinct – he, as Shateishira, was far above that level of temptation.

Over the crashing of icy water around him he heard a sharp bleeping; as he climbed out of the shower, he realised that it was not, in fact, his pager, but his personal cell. Who on earth was calling his cell? He couldn't even remember giving anyone the number. He did not see why anyone else would need it. Frowning, he picked up the mobile phone and hit the receive button.

"Who is this and how did you get this number?"

"Oh, shut up Fluffy. You have one guess."

"Oh. What do you want, Ryō?"

"I want you to explain to me why you didn't turn up for the Marik's training this morning, baka."

"You mean the Ishtar? I _did_ show up for his training." He bit out into the receiver, summoning all his self-control in an attempt not to hang up right then.

"Bakura, sitting in Observation and drinking tea is _not_ showing up for training. And if you even laid a _finger_ on my ginger biscuits I'll fucking kill you."

"I ate every last one, you little bitch." There was a tense silence in which Bakura could imagine his younger brother counting to ten and pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. Eventually, there was a deep and laboured sigh on the other end of the line.

"Just don't let the kid down again, okay? This is your official warning. If you do, you'll have me to deal with, and you don't want that, trust me."

"Oh, I know, Princess."

Another sigh, then a dial tone. Ryō had hung up.

. . . . . . . . . . .

Far beyond the struggles of a naïve young Kobun, and the wet dreams of a white haired sociopath, Yakuza Oyabun Seto Kaiba rubbed his temples in an attempt to soothe his hammering skull. Damn that Fudo and his damn motorcycles, and his damn ragtag team of imbeciles. Damn them all for giving him (_him_, the most fearsome Mafia boss in all of Japan!) a headache. Damn them all to the fires of the underworld. Damn them.

His skull split with raging, pulsating fury. His encounter with Fudo, as much as he hated to admit it, had taken its toll on him. His mind was going in circles.

_"As I'm sure you know, you have an informer in the midst of your snobbish gang. I would just like to tell you, out of the kindness of my heart, that it is one of your "inner circle" as you like to call them."_

No, Fudo was wrong. He was lying. Kaiba had surrounded himself with trusted members of his Kobun – his _family_. Surely, none of them would betray him.

_BANG._

The antique desk shuddered with the force of the Coro's fist as he slammed it down in frustration. Surely, his family would not dare betray _him_? He was the fucking Oyabun, dammit! Commanding their loyalty by pain of violent torture and death! How fucking dare they!

No. He was getting ahead of himself. There was no reason – in fact, it was likely that Fudo was foolishly attempting to plant doubt in his mind – no matter. He was not worried.

_Although…_

He had better despatch a team. Just in case.

**A/N: Introducing ****_the plot_****, ladies and gentlemen. So there. A little taste of what's to come, hopefully very shortly, in the next instalment of White Dragon. Guess who's going to be on the raid team..? ;D**

**Tune in next time for gunfights and other exciting things, and hopefully some more hints of yaoi too – some that's actually relevant this time.**

**We're very aware, by the way (before anyone points it out) that Yugi is nowhere to be seen as of yet. You might even be wondering if we've forgotten about him. Forgotten him? Far from it. He just isn't relevant to the plot yet, is all. Don't worry, he'll be around. His time is coming.**

**Also, it was only when we were half way through writing this chapter that Bee and I spotted a plot hole… The fact that none of them are hung over after the party. We decided that it makes way more sense to the plot as it is, and to just pray that the impending smut would distract from the poor planning… Hopefully it did the job, but… Yeah, If you spotted that, well done, and stuff. You're very smart ;P **

**Once again, reviews are encouraged and welcomed, positive and negative, all are great to receive at this point :D see you next time ^.^**

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